Kickstart My Heart

Kickstart my heart with the beat of a drum
Crashed out with guitars halfway through the song
A ballard of love, an epic of loss
Map my life with your lyrics, a story of us.
Chart the rise and the fall, our great dance in and out.
Though I stand all alone, cos that party’s a rout
And your anger, your pain, your deep bitter regret
Cast their notes on my skin like the stain of a debt.
No room for debate, all your feelings for sale,
Your lies down on disc, my truth a betrayal.
Rip me up, brush me off, fly me eons away.
But the album persists, in its echoes you stay.
They map me with your lyrics, a woman declined.
And their spite filled with curses, I wish you’d been kind.
But that’s not how it played, and now I don’t need your song.
Cos the beat’s going forward.
Yes the beat carries on.

All rights reserved – Alicia Fitton 2018

Picture courtesy of Lincerta

To Trace Your Shape

Oh how I long to trace your shape
With inquiring fingertips
From fragile nape to hollow back
I stroke and watch
You stretch and buck.

You come with sighs and tiny moans
Sweet sounds that pull straight through my core
Like keys with strings tuned sharp and loud.
You moan, you pluck,
I clutch your hand.

Your skin so warm, but marble pale
And salted, wet with beads of sweat
And overwhelmed, I drink you in.
Like honey wine,
You taste sublime.

All rights reserved, Alicia Fitton 2018

Companion Piece

In my eyes you are dark leaf and shadow
Bright gilded bronze, my messenger and muse
You lead me astray down paths of sweet sorrow
Tempt me to bargain a life that I’ll lose,
Muscle and marble, your touch like cold fire
You lead me straight past my twice daily sin
Mirrored temptation to whet dry desire
The crunch of an apple, the juice on your chin.
The vale of my heart grows ever sickly
The meadow beyond remains rich and green
I see our end, emerging so quickly
The clouds overhead sink down in between.
I’ll gather my thoughts, your heart on my sleeve.
Love me so hard that I can’t hear you leave.

All rights reserved, Alicia Fitton 2016

If you liked this poem, read Slot Gap